


It's Your Call

by My_Alter_Ego



Category: White Collar
Genre: Bank Robbery, Collateral Damage, Gen, Hostage Situation, Hurt/Comfort, Sacrificial Lamb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:55:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27006184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Alter_Ego/pseuds/My_Alter_Ego
Summary: Neal gets the nod to exchange himself for a female hostage taken by Matthew Keller during a bank robbery.
Relationships: Neal Caffrey & Matthew Keller, Peter Burke & Neal Caffrey
Comments: 16
Kudos: 92





	1. Chapter 1

The call came into Peter’s office line at precisely 9:15 AM on a Monday morning. Later, Peter would remember idly looking at his watch, but in the aftermath, it would become a moment crystallized in time because it kicked off a possible lethal scenario that could culminate in his CI’s death.

“Is this Agent Peter Burke, head of the FBI’s White Collar Division?” a gruff voice barked in his ear in a staccato fashion.

“This is Assistant Special Agent Peter Burke,” Peter answered just as tersely. “To whom am I speaking?”

“This is Captain John Mansford of NYPD’s First Precinct. Currently, my guys are responding to what started out as a blatant stick ‘em up robbery of First National Bank down here on Wall Street. Unfortunately, it’s now become a hostage situation. Some little dirtbag is holding the bank manager hostage because she was able to trip a silent alarm and alert us before he could make his getaway.”

“Well, it sounds like you have your hands full,” Peter said slowly. “Exactly why are you calling the FBI about something that falls under your purview?”

“Because this irritating little clown is making demands to our hostage negotiators,” Mansford informed his listener. “He says he’ll exchange the woman hostage for someone named Neal Caffrey who works in White Collar. He’s even ballsy enough to put us on the clock. He says we have exactly one hour to make it happen. So, I’m just asking—do you have a guy named Caffrey on your payroll. If so, then how do you want to play this?”

“Have you managed to ascertain the robber’s identity?” Peter sidestepped that question by asking one of his own.

“Yeah, we have, thanks to you guys. Someone in the FBI looked at a photo from the security cameras before the dude shot them out. Facial recognition on your end gave us an ID. His name is Matthew Keller. Ring any bells?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Peter answered as he felt his stomach drop.

“So, I guess it’s your call now, Agent Burke,” Mansford continued.

“Yeah, my call,” Peter managed to utter. “But I can’t make a unilateral decision to put one of my associates at risk. I’ll need to talk to Caffrey and fill him in, and I also have superiors. They’ll have to sign off on this before anything goes forward.”

“Right—I know all about chain of command,” Mansford said, “but keep in mind that the clock is ticking. This bank manager is a single mother with two teenage kids. I’m just sayin’.”

Peter was never one to make rash decisions. He was more ploddingly pedantic in nature, and only felt comfortable after looking at a problem from every angle. With his analytic mindset and mathematical focus, he always tried to predict the odds of success versus failure. With a diabolical Keller factored into the equation, the odds were not going to be in the good guys’ favor.

Mindful of the time, he hastily entered Reese Hughes’ inner sanctum. “We’ve got a situation,” he informed his superior in a dead serious tone as he laid out the bare bones of the hostage dilemma.

Reese Hughes narrowed his eyes and was thoughtful. “Peter, I make it a point to know everything there is to know about everyone who sits at a desk in this office. I am well aware that Caffrey and this Keller shared a history in the past. Is it possible they are colluding in some way?”

“That was back in the day when Neal was young and foolish, but he has more integrity than to throw in with a killer like Matthew Keller now,” Peter said adamantly.

“Integrity is a strange word to describe Caffrey’s attributes,” Hughes said snidely. “Your CI is still young and probably still just as rashly foolish. Tell me I’m wrong!”

When Peter remained silent, Hughes stood up and walked out to the upstairs balcony. “Caffrey, get up here now!” The old man couldn’t help but notice how other agents’ heads turned, and most gave the young confidential informant looks running the gamut from pity to suspicion.

“Sir?” Neal said calmly as he stood patiently before his two superiors with a bland expression on his face.

“Matthew Keller—a friend of yours?” Hughes began the discussion.

“No, Sir, he isn’t,” Neal replied without the slightest facial tic or any outward sign of anxiety.

“But you ran with him in Europe years ago,” Hughes pushed.

“There may have been that rumor floating around,” Neal shrugged nonchalantly, “but I don’t usually put too much faith in gossip.”

“Don’t bullshit me, boy!” Hughes all but bellowed. “You two were as thick as thieves, with the emphasis on _‘thieves,’_ so don’t try to play coy with me now,” Hughes insisted.

The two men held each other’s gaze in an obvious stalemate until Hughes blinked first. “Well, your little buddy has gotten himself in a world of hurt. He thinks he’s calling the shots, but, in the end, we’re going to take him down, one way or the other. Now, here’s a question for you. Do you want to go down with him?”

Neal sighed. “Agent Hughes, you have me at a complete disadvantage because I have no idea what you’re talking about. You have me on the ropes, so I give up. What exactly do you want from me?”

Peter thought this was a good time for him to jump in. He explained how Keller was cornered with a hostage, but was promising to release the unfortunate woman if Neal took her place.

“Neal, this could be extremely dangerous for you,” Peter said honestly. “Keller likes to hold onto old grudges like a miser until he finds just the right time to pull an unsuspecting adversary into a trap. Exactly how were things left between the two of you before I finally took you out of play and sent you to prison?”

“Matthew was always competitive,” Neal admitted, “and it was usually about seeing who was better at their craft. Our game of one-upmanship was fun at first, but Keller crossed a line when he started using violence and guns, so that’s when we parted company.”

“So, let me get this straight,” Hughes interjected. “You consider yourself to be a gentle criminal and Keller is the heavy-handed thug?”

Neal shrugged. “That’s pretty much how I came to view our connection then, and since I haven’t seen Matthew in years, I have no way of knowing if he’s changed his way of doing things.”

Hughes turned his focus to Peter. “It’s your call,” he finally said ominously.

Peter took a deep breath as he looked at his CI intently. “I’m going to say this again. Allowing Keller to get his hands on you is extremely dangerous, Neal.”

“Yeah, I get that,” the young man answered, “but I didn’t think I had any say in this. If I’m standing here now, then I think everything is pretty clear.”

“You always have a say when it concerns life choices,” Peter replied. “You should know that by now.”

Neal looked at Peter steadily as he answered, “In this instance, I don’t see choices. It’s a no-brainer—my life in exchange for an innocent lady with two children whose only misstep was being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Peter took another deep breath and hoped he wouldn’t come to deeply regret his next words. “Okay, Partner, let’s go downtown and check this out.”

~~~~~~~~~~

The ride down to Wall Street was a quiet one. Actually, that was because Peter couldn’t think of any words of wisdom for his CI. How could he advise him, or, for that matter, how could he even promise to have Neal’s back? What was so hard to accept was the obvious fact that Neal just assumed that he was expendable like collateral damage in a war between the long arm of the law and the outlaws who dared to break it. For the first time, Peter began to appreciate what a high-wire balancing act Neal had undertaken when he agreed to become Peter’s informant.

When they drew closer to ground zero in the stand-off, Peter reiterated his offer. “Neal, we can call this off right now. You don’t have to see yourself as the sacrificial lamb in this mess. Nobody will think less of you.”

Neal turned to his handler and asked a question. “What if Keller wanted to trade his hostage for Diana or Jones, or even Blake, the new probie? Would you have sent them in?”

“That’s a moot point; Keller asked for you specifically,” Peter argued just to avoid answering what Neal really wanted to know.

“I think you’re answering my question by not answering it,” Neal said with a little smile. “Don’t sweat it, Peter, because I totally get it, and it’s okay. Really—it is.”

“Neal, your life is just as valuable as Diana’s or Jones’ or mine,” Peter tried to shore up his position. “But we’re all agents of the FBI, and the Bureau has a policy of never giving in to a perpetrator’s demands.”

“Yeah, the good old boys club with its rules and regulations and secret handshakes,” Neal said sarcastically. “I’m just hanging on the fringes of that fraternity, on the outside looking in. But guess what—I really don’t want to join your particular band of brothers. When my parole is up, I’ll find my own more suitable niche.”

“Neal, that’s not how it is,” Peter objected.

“Yeah, it really is,” Neal ended the discussion by turning away and ignoring his chauffeur during the ride downtown.

Eventually, Peter eased his Taurus through a knot of congestion to something that looked like a war zone. Several SWAT vans, a plethora of police cruisers, a hook and ladder fire truck, and two EMT vehicles idled in the cold air as their exhaust created a pseudo fog around them. The cops had set up a perimeter around the bank as well as a secondary one four blocks back to contain the media with their parabolic microphones and shoulder-held cameras. Nonetheless, television channel whirlybirds competed with those belonging to the NYPD in the air space above the scene.

When Peter identified himself, he and Neal were swiftly escorted to a square-jawed middle-aged man holding court with his strategy team as they surveyed architectural plans spread across the tailgate of an armored vehicle.

“Captain John Mansford,” he said solemnly as he pumped Peter’s hand. “You got here just under the wire. We have an open landline with the perp, and he’s getting antsy. Did you bring the guy he wants to see? He’s really our only hope to safely extract the woman hostage. After that, we’ll see how it goes.”

“Neal,” Peter called to his partner who had meandered over to the serious-minded people pouring over their plats and floor plans.

Mansford looked the new arrival up and down. “You know the guy inside?” he asked bluntly.

“I do,” Neal answered without elaborating.

“He got a beef with you?” was the next question.

“Nothing I can say with complete knowledge. I don’t think he’d want to kill me, if that’s what you’re asking,” Neal hedged.

“Then why you?” the police chief demanded to know.

Neal held his hands out, palm up, and shrugged.

“Just then the land-line phone trilled in Mansford’s hand. He put the headset to his ear and listened intently. “Yeah, he’s arrived on scene. Uh huh, I hear you. I’ll run that by him to see if he’s agreeable,” the cop said as he abruptly ended the call.

“This Keller dude thinks he’s holding all the cards right now, so here’s what he said,” Mansford explained. “He wants Mr. Caffrey to walk slowly up to the doors of the bank. Before he walks into no man’s land, there are certain things that have to happen. He wants his new potential hostage to leave his cell phone here, lose any watch, belt buckle, pens, cuff links, or ear buds as well as one other item—a tracking anklet,” the police chief said as he now gazed at Neal with suspicion.

Neal didn’t bat an eye, but continued to look blandly interested at a man who now had reservations about this exchange. “Anything else?” Neal asked calmly.

“Yeah, he wants you to unbutton your shirt so he can spot if you’re wearing a wire as you walk slowly up to him. If he’s happy that you’re unarmed and with no means of communication with us, then he’ll let the bank manager go.”

“Okay, let’s do this,” Neal told Mansford as he turned toward the bank.

The police captain wasn’t done. He grabbed onto Neal’s arm and spun him around. “What’s Keller’s game, Caffrey? What can you do for him while he’s holed up in there? We’ve got him surrounded, and snipers are all along the rooftops, so how exactly does he think you can help his situation?”

“If you’ll let me be on my way, then maybe we’ll find out,” Neal replied coldly.

Mansford next looked to Peter. “You okay with this? Do we send him in? I’m passing the baton to the FBI, so it’s now your headache and your call.”

“Let him go in,” Peter said firmly after just a brief moment of hesitation.


	2. Chapter 2

Neal emptied his pockets and removed his belt, his tie bar and his tie while Peter knelt down and unfastened his tracker. Next, the young con man shrugged out of his suit jacket and began unbuttoning his shirt in the cold air that raised goosebumps on his skin. He looked across the 20 yards that constituted a gauntlet that bridged the safety of the police barricade and the danger inside the bank building. He refused to look back at Peter before he began the slow, step by step, march towards the front doors with his hands in the air and his shirt flapping open.

Mansford and Peter watched the slow progress in silence until the police captain asked a pointed question. “Did we just allow another fox to enter the hen house?”

“Caffrey will do whatever it takes to get that hostage freed,” Peter said, hoping he wasn’t promising something that may never happen.

Suddenly, both men stiffened and there was an air of alertness among the troops as the figure of Keller came into view with a rigid woman shielding him with her body as he held a gun to her head. The bank manager looked paralyzed with fear. Her eyes were wild, the mascara had run down her face, and she had lost all color in her cheeks. Neal sent her a little comforting smile as he stopped his journey to await Keller’s next move.

“Hey there, Neal, nice of you to stop by,” Keller smirked.

“Yeah, Matthew, I’m here now so let the nice lady go,” Neal said woodenly.

“Ah, Neal, be patient. There’s a process we have to follow,” the man with the gun taunted. “Come up the steps and stand next to me, then turn around so that your audience can see your handsome face.”

Neal did as Keller had dictated, and with the swiftness of a striking cobra, the bank invader shoved the female hostage down the steps and yanked Neal into the place she have previously occupied. Then he dragged his new shield back through the glass doors to the marble lobby and made sure the locks were secure. Only then, did he lessen his death grip around Neal’s neck and lower his weapon a fraction.

“What the hell, Matthew?” Neal said in exasperation. “Have you lost your mojo? A stupid smash and grab in the morning light is not particularly elegant, if you want my opinion.”

Keller gave a “what can you do” shrug. “I’m in a very precarious position right now, my friend, and I can’t exactly be as clever and ingeniously Machiavellian as I normally am.”

“What kind of jam are you in—exactly?” Neal asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I may have tried to scam some Serbians in one of their gambling establishments, and when they discovered how I had managed to win two mil, they weren’t very happy and they want their money back plus interest,” Keller admitted.

“And you thought you’d get that kind of money from a few bank tellers’ cash drawers?” Neal asked incredulously.

“It would have been a start, or at least enough to cover the vig,” Neal’s captor snorted. “I thought I’d get here when the doors opened while the ladies were just settling in after touching up their lipstick and still gossiping. I’d catch them by surprise, put the fear of God into them, fill up my knapsack, and be out the door in two shakes. I didn’t plan on one hussy being bold enough to hit the panic button.”

“So, you thought it would be a good idea to take a hostage and hunker down?” Neal asked sarcastically.

“Yeah, one woman was enough to keep the wolf from the door. I let the others go because I didn’t want the hassle of keeping track of a harem of weepy females peeing their pants,” Keller replied crudely.

“Now what, Matthew? Do you demand a Brinks armored truck to escort you to Teterboro so you can get on a plane or a helicopter that the cops will provide? Get real, my friend. It just isn’t going to go down that way, and you’re smart enough to know that.”

“Well, Neal, I refuse to go down the pussy way you did, in handcuffs and whisked off to a federal penitentiary. Not my idea of Matthew Keller’s final chapter. Nope—I want to ride off into the sunset free as a bird and you’re going to help me, Buddy.”

“How do you figure that I can pull you out of this deep hole that you’ve dug for yourself?” Neal was the picture of cynicism.

Keller cocked his head and smiled. “You always had a mantra when we hung out, Neal. Sometimes it drove me crazy just hearing you say it, time after time. You claimed there was always another way, so figure one out now. You owe me. I saved your ass in Scandinavia, so now it’s time to return the favor. If you can work your magic, I can raid the cage downstairs and escape via that ‘other way’ you were always yakking about.”

Neal stared at Keller and shook his head sadly. “Matthew, face facts; you’re about to fall big time. You’re cornered, and if you refuse to give up, it’s gonna get real messy. Odds are, you probably won’t survive this debacle. Maybe the only reason I’m here is that it would give you great pleasure to see me go down right by your side.”

Suddenly, there was a fleeting look of something like affection on Keller’s face. Neal couldn’t be sure because it was immediately replaced by one of devious slyness. “Nah, I don’t see us as Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid making a last stand. And I’m sorry you think I’d be that vindictive, Buddy. That cuts me to the quick. I’m not your real enemy. The guys outside with the guns are. Do you think they’re going to try to sort out who’s who when they come storming in here? Do you really think they care, one way or the other? Collateral damage—oh, well.”

Neal walked over to the counter and casually leaned against it as Keller’s weapon tracked his progress. “You’ve got a gun aimed at me, too. But you have been known to spin a good yarn, Matthew, so for once, tell me the truth. Tell me the real reason I’m here, and it’s not just because you’ve missed me and want some company.”

Keller actually laughed. “You always were the smart one, my friend. Could never pull the wool over your eyes, so I’ll lay it out for you. My reluctant hostage and I took a little tour of the place. Yeah, there’s stacks of bills in the cage, but the real money is in a big-assed vault, and only the bank president knows the combination to that safe. Somehow I can’t see him coughing it up just because one of his little worker bees is in a jam. But I’ve got a lot of faith in your expertise, Buddy, so I’m betting you can get the job done and then we can leave by that ‘other way’ you’re so fond of. I happen to know Burke has a soft spot for you, so maybe you could put that to good use to get us safe passage.”

Now it was Neal who was laughing. “You expect me to perform a miracle without even the most basic tools like a drill or a borescope? What have you been smoking, _Buddy?_ And just to be clear, Peter would never bend any rules for me.”

“Don’t try to con a con,” Keller snickered. “You can crack that safe if you put your mind to it. Think big payday, my friend. There’s probably more than enough in there for me to pay off my debt to the Serbians and still buy a castle in Scotland or a pied a terre in Paris. I got your ankle monitor removed, didn’t I. So you can blow out of New York in style, as well. C’mon, Neal, what do you say? You can thank me later.”

Neal took his time giving it some thought before finally responding. “There is one possible avenue of escape, but unless there’s an arsenal of dynamite or a jackhammer tucked away in a janitor’s closet, it isn’t an option,” Neal intentionally tried to tweak Keller’s interest.

“Can you be a bit more specific? Spell it out for me,” Keller prodded.

“Well, I may have glanced over a few shoulders behind police lines and actually got a good look at all the architectural schematics the hot shots were studying. The drawings were detailed but not really the complete picture,” Neal drawled lazily.

Now Neal had Keller’s undivided attention. “So, what were they missing?” the little criminal was cautiously curious.

Neal smiled his Cheshire Cat smile. “I just happen to know that below the basement in this particular building is a sub-basement that was covered over a long time ago. At least fifty years in the past, it was actually an access point for a now defunct subway spur that led all the way down to the Battery,” he ended his spiel.

“So, if we could access that sub-basement, we could probably walk out of here right under everybody’s nose,” Keller speculated.

“Yes, we could, but you’re getting ahead of yourself. First we’d somehow have to get through at least a foot of concrete and rebar. Have any heavy duty machinery in your back pocket?” Neal asked sardonically.

Keller suddenly looked cunning as he sauntered closer to his former friend. “No, I don’t happen to have any of that stuff handy right now, so tunneling out of this joint isn’t an option. But maybe someone could pave the way by tunneling in. You still hanging out with that obnoxious, myopic little twit?”

“I assume that you’re referring to Mozzie,” Neal glared. “Why would he want to help you?”

“Because he’d be helping you, Neal. If the boys outside get tired of waiting, they might just decide to storm this place. Then the bullets will be flying and you might go down with me. If that happens, little Mozzie will be bereft, and I’ll bet your handler will be heartbroken to lose such a valuable asset for a whole New York minute before he moves on to another patsy. And that’s exactly how Burke views you, Neal. Guys like us don’t make nice with the Man. We’re oil and water and we don’t mix. If you think otherwise, then you’re a fool.”

Neal refused to respond, so Keller tried another tactic. “Look, Neal, we go way back, so I can be generous. If you and Mozzie help me out of my dilemma, I’ll let you two leave with as much money from that humongous safe as you can carry. Then we all go our separate ways. How’s that for being a friend?”

Neal seemed to be considering Keller’s offer. Finally, he appeared to have made a decision. “The police are monitoring the landline and you made me leave my cell behind, so do you have a phone on you?”

Keller smiled, produced a burner from his pocket, and placed his gun in the waistband of his pants near the small of his back.

“I knew you’d be pragmatic and come to your senses, Neal,” he grinned.

~~~~~~~~~~

After Neal connected with a flabbergasted Mozzie and told him what had to be done, he returned the phone to Keller, who perhaps might be termed an accomplice at this point.

“It’s going to take at least a couple of hours for Mozzie to get down here with the equipment and make any headway from his end. The cops outside don’t know what’s happening in here, so they need something to keep them busy,” Neal advised.

“I hear you, Buddy. Let me start making some outrageous demands,” Keller said with a nod of his head. “They’ll pretend to agree after we haggle a bit because they want to buy time to try and find a way in here.”

“Right, Hostage Negotiation 101,” Neal agreed.

Keller picked up the landline and started asking for the very things Neal had previously mentioned—an armored car escort to Teterboro and a Piper Cub waiting with a full tank of gas and a pilot. Neal found it hard not to roll his eyes as the belligerent little criminal swore and threatened like a modern day version of James Cagney. 

At one point, Peter had gotten on the line and insisted that he be allowed to talk with Neal to reassure himself that his CI was still alive and breathing. “Neal, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Peter, but Keller means business. If you give him what he wants, maybe I can stay in one piece.”

“Neal, you know the drill,” Peter whispered with a degree of sadness in his voice that Neal suspected might be real. No doubt his handler was referring to what he had said about the FBI never giving in to a criminal’s demands.

“Yeah, Peter, I know the drill,” Neal answered softly as he clicked off. Then he turned to Keller. “I guess I should get started on that safe.”

Exactly, 40 minutes after that conversation ended, Neal heard the last tumbler drop as he kept his ear plastered to the thick metal of the safe’s exterior. He held his breath as he lifted the heavy lever under Keller’s watchful eye. Then he let out that breath as the door easily swung open to reveal stacks and stacks of high denomination bills neatly tucked inside.

“You are the bomb, Neal,” Keller crowed. “I knew being idle these last few years hadn’t made you rusty. It’s like riding a bike—right!”

Before Neal could answer, there was a reverberation under the two men’s feet causing the floor to sway beneath them. With little warning, big cracks appeared across the marble tiles before parts of the surface imploded on itself. A fascinated Neal and Keller watched a three-foot wide sink hole open up right before their eyes. More amazing than that was seeing Mozzie in a miner’s hat suddenly pop up like a prairie dog through the new opening. He squinted into the swirls of dust and coughed delicately. “Jackhammers are macho but C4 is quicker. You guys ready to rumble?” he giggled.

~~~~~~~~~~

Mozzie and Keller quickly filled two canvas satchels with cash while Neal looked on in a detached sort of way. “C’mon, Neal, give us a hand,” Mozzie said as he glanced over his shoulder. “The cops had to have heard that explosion, so they’re probably going to come storming in here in the not too distant future. We’ve gotta hit the ground running.”

“You go, Moz. I’m staying,” Neal answered slowly, causing Keller to look up sharply.

“Don’t be a fool, Neal,” Keller sneered. “You don’t have a life here. You’re still in prison as long as the FBI has you on a leash. They don’t give a rat’s ass about you or they wouldn’t have traded you for the bank manager without batting an eye. Stop living in a fantasy world where you think they care. Don’t you want to be free of their hypocrisy?”

“I will be free in time, and I won’t always be having to look over my shoulder,” was the answer Neal provided.

Keller shook his head in disgust. “Stop kidding yourself. It’s never going to be over for you. So, I guess it falls to me to provide a fitting ending,” he said as he pulled the gun from his waistband.

Neal eyed Keller carefully and realized the meaning behind those words. “Maybe not here, Matthew. That cement dust will ruin my suit trousers.”

“Always playing at being Dapper Dan,” Keller groused. “C’mon, hustle upstairs. I’ll make sure to leave you in a nice clean spot.”

Mozzie was now standing frozen in place. “Neal?” he murmured worriedly.

“Just go, Moz, I’ll take care of this,” Neal reassured his friend with a nod of his head. When the little bald man hesitated, Neal repeated his words more forcefully. “Take the money and go!”

Keller didn’t seem to care about Mozzie’s departure. He was busy prodding Neal up the steps with the gun in his back.

“Is this really how you intend for this to play out, Matthew?” Neal asked when they reached the lobby.

“You’re not giving me much choice, Buddy,” Keller sighed as he stood, face to face, with a former friend who was now again in his crosshairs. “You could have had a less bleak future if you were only willing to play ball. We could have teamed up and given Interpol another run for their money.”

“I guess it just wasn’t in the cards,” Neal said softly. He never got a chance to say anything more as Keller’s face took on that elusive fleeting expression that Neal couldn’t quite parse. Instead, the young con man’s attention was consumed by a sudden pain in his skull, and, without warning, his field of vision shrunk down to a pinpoint until complete darkness took its place. Neal was no longer aware, didn’t feel the floor beneath him, or see the blood pooling like a halo around his head.


	3. Chapter 3

Peter was pacing back and forth like a caged tiger behind the outside police perimeter. He had listened impatiently during the last hour as the cops went round and round on the phone with Keller. The trained negotiator had promised that things were in the works but it could take a while to meet the demands Keller had set out. He was stalling for time, of course, just as Keller was doing inside his fortress.

“Just how far does this guy think he can fly in a little prop plane?” Mansford remarked to Peter.

“My guess would be he plans to follow the coastline north to the Canadian border,” Peter supplied an answer. “It’s really not that far. Once he does that, he could just have the pilot set the lightweight craft down in an open field somewhere and be on his merry way dodging the Mounties.”

“Yeah, that sounds plausible,” the police chief agreed. “Now, as for his new hostage—how do you see that playing out?”

“Look, Captain, I know what you’re thinking, but my CI would never throw in with the likes of Matthew Keller,” Peter answered firmly.

“You’re really sure which side of the street he’s working? That was a tracking anklet you removed before he walked into that bank, so now you have no means of knowing where he’s going or with whom.”

“I trust Neal,” Peter said more forcefully.

“Then why the need for a leash?” Mansford asked logically, but Peter didn’t have time to enlighten the man because the conversation was interrupted by the echo of a faraway rumble.

“What the hell was that?” Mansford growled to no one in particular. “It definitely wasn’t a gunshot, so maybe more like a muffled explosion.”

His second-in-command was immediately on the wire with his superior. “Sir, we picked up that sound aberration on our coms, but our teams hunkered down in place at the exits say that all points of egress are still intact.”

“Roger that,” Mansford quickly answered as he tried using the landline to raise Keller. It rang and rang at least fifteen times before he gave up. Then he quickly gave the order for a drone to be sent up capable of capturing thermal heat signatures through the various skylights on the building’s roof.

Peter was now back to pacing again, more worried than he had been. To be honest, he wasn’t sure what he had expected Neal to accomplish after the hostage transfer. Undoubtedly, Neal could walk the walk and talk the talk with men like Keller, but he couldn’t perform miracles. Peter never envisioned Keller docilly surrendering without a fight, so a nervous handler had to face a hard truth. It was his call that had probably sent Neal on a fool’s errand that could cost him his life. What was even harder to reconcile was the fact that Neal knew exactly why it was done.

Eventually, Mansford was given a handheld flat screen to see through the eyes of the drone. To Peter, the background looked like a field of mown hay, but in the center was an irregularly shaped hotspot that glowed a bright red.

“That’s the image of a prone body we’re seeing in the central lobby, and it doesn’t look like it’s moving,” the precinct captain intoned softly. “The drone’s done two sweeps and that’s all it’s detected.”

“It should have picked up two heat signatures,” Peter said worriedly. “Is there any way you can shield yourself to outsmart that thing?”

“Well, nothing beats a pair of real human eyes, so I’m giving the order to breach!” Mansford made an executive decision.

It was as if a switch had been flipped. Simultaneously, waves of black-helmeted men in riot gear holding massive shields in front of them advanced. The bank windows were shot out to allow for flash bangs and tear gas cannisters to be lobbed inside. Then other warriors with rebreather masks and automatic weapons took up the slack, swarming the premises like angry hornets ready to mow down anyone in their path. As Peter watched the fearsome assault, he wasn’t even aware he was holding his breath until he needed air in his lungs to start running forward. Somewhere behind him he heard Mansford yelling at him to stop and wait for the all-clear. Of course, Peter didn’t stop because he had to know. “Not Neal! Not Neal!” his brain chanted as he loped up the steps and entered the lobby.

But it was Neal that he encountered just a few feet from what would have been safety. He was lying on his side in a pool of blood congealing around his head. Neal would have seen it coming, this death doled out by Keller with a bullet to his brain, and suddenly Peter felt an uncontrollable rage well up inside his own head. If he could have gotten his hands on Keller, he would have beaten him to death on the spot. Somewhere in the roaring noise of his mind, Peter heard a moan, and he quickly fell to his knees beside the victim thinking the sound had come from someone who wasn’t really dead. But Neal remained still as a statue, so it took a few seconds before Peter realized the pitiful moaning was coming from his own throat.

Much Later In the Scenario

“Peter, could you just stop pacing,” Neal pleaded. “It’s making me dizzy and my headache worse.”

“Are you still having double vision?” Peter asked as he sank down in a chair beside his CI’s hospital bed.

“Not anymore, although the light from the window makes me want to wince,” Neal admitted.

Peter immediately popped up to adjust the blinds, making the room dimmer. “Neal, are you sure you don’t remember anything that happened during that hour and a half you were stuck in the bank with Keller?”

The patient lying in the bed sighed and stared up at his interrogator in exasperation. Peter felt like a jerk for being so insistent and intrusive after what Neal had been through. His handsome face was still almost as pale as the white butterfly closures that held together the edges of a deep laceration on his left temple.

“Peter, the neurologist told you that retrograde amnesia is very common after a traumatic brain injury,” Neal recited like a parrot. “And he also stated that a nasty concussion from the barrel of a gun which rendered me unconscious definitely qualifies as a brain injury.”

“Well, maybe in time, something will come back to you,” Peter said weakly.

“What is so important that you feel a burning desire to know?” Neal asked softly. “You’ve told me that Keller managed to escape through a hole in the floor and is still at large. So, unless you snag him, that’s the end of the story.”

“Yeah, about that,” Peter was suddenly leaning forward and trying to engage Neal’s eyes. “The tech specialists who perform explosive analysis have concluded that the blast came up from under the basement floor of the bank. So, that means Keller had an accomplice on the outside. Are you sure you don’t remember seeing another person?”

Neal huffed out another tired sigh and closed his eyes. “I’m going to repeat just two words, Partner, for the umpteenth time— _retrograde amnesia!_ Apparently, it’s a real thing, not just a plot device invented by the soap operas.”

Peter, however, couldn’t let it alone. “Keller managed to crack a Class 1 tungsten steel Hamilton safe, one of the toughest, most impervious vaults on the market. He didn’t drill through it; he didn’t dynamite it; he just spun the tumblers until he got it to open. Is he really that good?” Peter asked softly.

“I guess if the vault was open, then yeah, maybe he must be,” Neal answered.

“Right, but I guess we’ll never know for sure because the numbered dial and the unlocking lever were wiped clean of any prints,” Peter added.

“So, Keller’s tidy as well as talented,” Neal quipped.

“Apparently as talented as you,” Neal’s handler remarked to see if he could elicit a show of spunk.

“If you say so,” was the petulant answer.

The two men sat in tense silence for a few minutes until Peter got to the heart of what was bugging him. “Neal, why do you think Keller didn’t put a bullet in your head instead of just knocking you unconscious?”

“I guess you’d have to ask him if you find him.”

Peter was persistent, or perhaps a bit relentless. “C’mon, Buddy, just give me your best guess because I keep wondering why he showed mercy instead of tying up loose ends. He’s killed before, so why spare you, one of his old rivals?”

Neal finally met his handler’s eyes. “Maybe when bonds are formed, they endure even though the people who once shared them find themselves on different sides of the fence. You don’t sacrifice people just because they don’t seem to belong in your orbit or don’t fit into the little pigeonhole that you’ve built for them. You don’t make them expendable, because no matter who they are, their life still has value.”

Peter heard the subtext of Neal’s words. He had pushed and pushed until Neal pushed back with a sentiment that the young man believed was true. As a paroled felon in the FBI’s world, Neal was straddling a kind of fence, and any progress they may have made in their relationship had taken two steps back because of this hostage exchange. In Neal’s mind, today he had been expected to assume the role of a bargaining chip because it was expedient. In essence, his life had been cavalierly bartered for another. Maybe, on a day to day basis, Neal viewed this whole CI experiment as a continuous effort to prove his value to Peter and the FBI by upping the closure stats. If he failed—well, Peter wasn’t quite sure what Neal was thinking. But one thing was certain. Somehow, Peter had to try to fix this.

“Neal, I know that you feel used and resentful, and I’m sorry for that. But bureaucracies are cold institutions without a heart. Somebody always has to answer to somebody above him, so there’s very little autonomy or compassion. For the most part, we’re all little cogs in a wheel rather than individuals. The top brass doesn’t have the time or the inclination to see us as people; what they want to see are checks in the win column. I know that sounds harsh, but it’s not directed at you personally. It’s just a reality across the board.”

Neal digested Peter’s little speech before finally turning the full wattage of his blue gaze on his handler. “But in this instance, Peter, it _was_ more personal because today it was _your_ call.”


End file.
